Art Thou Not Well?
by TheatreGhost-316
Summary: As if Viola's life wasn't already complicated enough pretending to be a boy, concealing her feelings for Orsino, and having Olivia fall in love with her , she had to fall ill! But if it makes the duke take notice of you…maybe being sick isn't always a bad thing. Sonnet shamelessly stolen from Shakespeare because I can't write poetry like him .


Viola knew she was ill the minute she woke up. She sat up in bed, her head spinning, and forced herself to her feet. _As if life wasn't already complicated enough_, she thought while getting dressed. It might be just a passing malaise; with luck she could stay in her room until it had gone, and no one would notice––

A loud knocking on the door interrupted her thoughts. "Cesario!" a maid's shrill voice called, "Th'art not yet awake? Get thee downstairs, thou sluggard, the master hath business for thee!"

"I go, I go!" Viola muttered, cursing how scratchy her voice sounded.

She found Orsino on his balcony, surveying the garden with a melancholy air. Part of her wanted to go to him and lean against his arm, and ask _Why so sad, my lord? _––but _that_ would ruin her masquerade sooner than anything. Instead, she cleared her throat, and when Orsino turned around she asked, "What would you have me do, my lord?"

"Take this message to Lady Olivia," said the duke, handing her a freshly finished love letter. "Thou must play Cupid, and relate it to her with all thy youthful charms. Let the words I have writ be as wandering doves, and may they find a nest at last in her heart."

Viola bit her lip, wishing she could say all that her heart felt. Instead she settled for a mumbled, "Aye, my lord," and took the letter from Orsino. The duke frowned slightly, studying his young courier. "Wherefore art thou so sad, boy?" he said, "Come, put a smile on thy face; let not Olivia see thee so downcast." Viola smiled weakly, and gave him a slight bow before she left.

The walk to Olivia's house had never seemed so long. Viola stopped to catch her breath, leaning on the gate to stop herself from falling to the ground. Maria came out and hurried toward her. "Ah, Cesario!" she cried, "Come in, come in; my lady awaits thee most anxiously." She grabbed Viola's arm and all but dragged her into the parlor.

Olivia reclined gracefully on a sofa; but when Viola came in she sprang upright. "Cesario, this_ is_ a pleasure," she purred, "Hast thou a message for me?" Viola nodded, offering the letter. Olivia patted the velvet seat beside her. "Come," she said, "Sit thou here and read it unto me."

As much as Viola wanted to flop down onto the sofa, she perched carefully on the edge, as far from Olivia as possible. Olivia laughed, and put her arms around Viola, pulling her closer. "There, that's more comfortable," she said, "Now, let us hear what thy master has to say." Viola shifted so that she was not quite so close to Olivia. She unfolded the letter and cleared her throat.

"Dearest Olivia, fairest queen of my heart," she began to read:

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?  
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:  
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,  
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:  
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,  
And often is his gold complexion dimmed,  
And every fair from fair sometime declines,  
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed:  
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,  
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,  
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,  
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st,  
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,  
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."

Olivia burst into applause. " 'Tis the most exquisite verse that e'er I heard!" she exclaimed, "Delivered by this sweet angel voice, 'tis enough to bring tears to mine eyes." She stroked Viola's cheek. "How you blush, Cesario!" she chuckled. Viola flinched away from Olivia's hand. "What reply shall I give my master?" she asked. Olivia exchanged a knowing look with Maria; she tilted her head to one side, as if thinking of a response. "Tell thy master," she said, "that he may continue to compose his verses so long as you continue to deliver them." Viola quickly stood up. "If it please your ladyship," she said, "I must return to my master." Olivia pouted. "Very well, if you _must_ go. But do come again, sweet Cesario."

Viola felt a wave of nausea come over her; she bowed hastily to Olivia and hurried out the door into the garden. She had hardly reached the front gate when she stopped, doubled over, and retched into the bushes. She felt someone's hand rubbing her back. "How now, young master," said a familiar voice. Viola raised her head and saw Feste looking down at her, a trace of concern in his usually merry face. "I've seen men leave my lady sick with love," he said, "But methinks 'tis not love that ails thee." He put his arm around Viola's shoulders. "Come, lad, I'll see thee safely to thy door."

By the time they reached the duke's palace, all Viola wanted was to make her way back to her room and crawl into bed. She climbed slowly up the staircase, clinging to the bannister for support.

"Cesario?"

Viola recognized the voice as Orsino's. "What ails thee, boy?" asked the duke, "Art thou ill?" Viola shook her head weakly. "Nay, my lord," she whispered, " 'Tis only…'tis nothing." She tried to take a step forward, but her legs buckled underneath her; Orsino caught her. He laid a hand on her forehead. "Poor boy," he whispered, "What a fool I am, to send thee out on a lover's whim when though art feverish and sickly." He caught her up in his arms and carried her up the stairs to her room. He laid her down on her unmade bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin. "Rest now," he said, "Is there anything you require?" As miserable as she felt, Viola managed a small smile. "If it please my lord," she said, "would you sit by me for but a minute or two?" Orsino raised an eyebrow at her request, but he sat down on the edge of the bed and brushed the hair back from her forehead. "Is that all you want?" he asked. Viola closed her eyes and sighed contentedly. "My lord 'tis a greater comfort to me than you know."


End file.
